“My skis.

For the vacation.

See you later, Margaret.”

He backed out of the driveway fast enough that the mailbox post shook.

Gemma gave me a small shrug and a smaller smile and pulled her car out behind him.

I went back to the window and wiped that smear.

Beverly let herself in at three without knocking.

She had on a wool coat the color of oatmeal, and her mouth was set in that pleasant shape she used when she wanted a favor.